Note of the Living Deb

I like to check out Facebook regularly to get updates on my friends, but I also get news and I also get an education. Here are just three examples of what I learned today:

Music theory as normally taught in schools is racist.

My comments: "Wow. One might expect that there would be classes on Western classical music theory and then also classes on comparative music theory. So finding out that there's just the former, and it's called "music theory" was bad enough. But then we have to find out it was popularized basically for Nazi purposes and so it's yet another horrifying dark shadow we live under. (How open-minded that Schenker included both a Pole and an Italian in his top twelve!)

My favorite part is where he shows that some people think that something without melody can't be music, and some people think that something that's not danceable can't be music.

I also liked when he asked what was the difference between two groups of musicians he had shown pictures of: some were American and some were German."

Then I learned that a Tibetan altitude gene also exists in a recently discovered extinct human species.

My friend's comment: "It's pretty cool if you can say the reason you can breathe in higher altitudes is because some of your ancestors were a completely different species of human."

I also learned that A handful of recent discoveries have shattered anthropologists' picture of where humans came from, and when.

My comment: "There have been a lot of discoveries since my World History class in the late 1970s. Humans were around at least 300,000 years ago (not the 200,000 I learned), now the first-known fossils are from Morocco (not Ethiopia), at least some humans migrated from Africa at least 200,000 years ago (not just the big migration 60,000 years ago), and rather than outcompeting Neanderthals (and newly discovered Denisovans), they may have just intermarried."

And that's why I'm on the computer way too long.

Today I succumbed to temptation and bought the pre-boiled, pre-peeled hard-boiled eggs at Trader Joe's. Why yes, I did have deviled eggs for supper.

Yet, when the song with the lyrics, "Satan, your kingdom must come down" came on, I did not think of Trader Joe's. Or devilled eggs. I thought of my old boss's boss. Likewise, whenever I see him on campus, I think of that song. (Yes, I have fantasized about recording this song on his answering machine. It's a lovely bridge-burning song.)

I actually like him as a person, so it's easy to smile and wave when I see him. I just don't like him as a manager. Especially as a highly paid manager of a large and important department.

So always remember: It's nice whenever you see someone to have a song in your heart. Especially such a pretty and catchy tune.

I seem to be witnessing an evolution in media ownership. When I was a kid, everyone had records, cassette tapes and eight-track tapes. This was a big improvement over having to own the actual orchestra or having to wait for the bard to make it to your town.

Then we switched to CDs (and cassette tapes).

Now some people just record their CDs and then get rid of the actual disks.

Other people, mostly younger than me, just buy songs (such as from i-Tunes) or steal them and never own hard copies.

Other people don't even try to own songs, they just rent them using services like Pandora. This is good when you only like hearing new things. And these services get good at figuring out what kinds of new things you like to hear.

Using libraries for books and Netflix for movies is comparable. These days, it's getting awfully easy to access all kinds of wonderful media without having to actually use up space in your house.

We have another informal music recital coming up.

I pulled out the songs that seemed almost ready last time but just didn't have it, but they still don't have it and I don't know how to fix it.

So I found a song I could play some notes of with the music and then later figured out some more stuff without the CD playing, and it looked like it was going to be easy and fun. But then it turns out I had misremembered the stuff I had figured out earlier, so the new things I had figured out didn't work, and I couldn't figure out anything that did work, so I went looking for a plan C.

And today I found it. It's not my favorite song. It's interesting but not all that beautiful, though the tune is pleasant enough. But I can sing it. And I can make all the chords on the guitar. And I have even figured out some totally awesome finger picking I can do. And I wrote it down while I still know it. And I wrote it in pencil so that if I think of a better way, I can just change it to the new way.

And so now I have a song! That makes me happy.

Now all I have to do is finish writing out the lyrics, finish working out the finger-picking pattern, and then practice it. I can do the chords pretty well except one transition which seems quite easy to learn. I can do the finger-picking by itself fairly well, though I need to speed it up a bit more. And I can sing the song okay at speed with strumming. So now all I have to do is melt that all together and voila! No one has to throw up when they hear me!

(Except that it's a Leonard Cohen song. Ha!)

Journal entry of the day - See the most beautiful doggy dish ever (unless you hate Victorian stuff) at Notes from a Cottage Industry.

My favorite part of the day was catching those folks from Admissions who sing Christmas carols on the stairwell during lunchtime twice each December.

I had thought that I got my fix for this sort of music at the Wildflower Center when I heard a brass band doing four-part harmony. With horns instead of vocals, you get the added bonus of no lyrics!

But it turns out I don't care about having to hear the words. There is something about all those voices together that seems almost magical.

I was imagining farmers from the olden days going to church: the biggest, most beautiful and solid building with stone and stained glass. And then the inside would sometimes fill up with these very same sounds. This was all created to inspire awe. It works.

My parents are not letter-writers and they are not big on e-mail. They like best to visit, and they make do with phone calls.

But they also send me their synagogue's monthly newsletter. They've started channeling Dad's parents who were involved in their own synagogue for mostly social reasons, I suspect, because I have a memory of Grandma serving ham at Passover. So I read the newsletter as a way to keep up with some things in their life.

And this month's issue has the following interesting statement: "Thank you to [some guy] and [my mom] for your Shofar blowing." A shofar is a horn (both meanings - it's an instrument made from an animal's horn). I knew my mom had bought one and was trying to learn to play it, but now it seems she is willing to play in public during the High Holy Days services. I'll have to call and congratulate her next time I'm home at a reasonable hour.

And now I'm imagining my mom at the next recital. How about a duet for shofar and theramin?

Oh, no, better yet! Have any annoying neighbors who play their stereos too loudly in the middle of the night? Just hire my mom to come over in the middle of the day (when said neighbors are sleeping) and blast them into Timbuktu. Hmm, I seem to have a neighbor with an extremely loud bird in their back yard. I could get my mom to call back to it whenever it called out (which often happens when I walk by).

Well, see, the shofar is an unsubtle instrument. I would look for a podcast of someone playing one, but I don't particularly want to. Imagine a tuba or bugle which plays only two notes. Totally awesome for calling in the new year, but rarely seen otherwise.

I've been listening to a lot of music sung by Richard Schindell lately. The songs are catchy, beautiful, deep and mostly sad, haunting. The first one that grabbed me was in the "Cry, Cry, Cry" album and is about a guy who was scared straight.

I was lying in the garbage [after drinking too much], praying I would die
When a light came on above us, and a voice called from the sky.
Half a dozen unmarked cars came screeching to a halt.
They grabbed Bob. He started screaming it was all my fault.
There were men and dogs and helicopters flying all around.
They had the brothers on the pick-up hood and me down on the ground.

Most are so tragic I am in danger of having nightmares and feeling inadequate for not having made enough of my nontragic life.

Entry of the day - The Simple Dollar's first entry in his Ten Books that Changed My Life Series, Fahrenheit 451. "For too long, I let the values of others - materialism and consumerism - override my own values, and it is something that fills me with regret on a daily basis. My finances were one of the last areas where I let others have so much influence over me; I kept letting the lifestyle of my peer group pull me along for far too long. Every time I have evaluated a portion of my life and put effort into aligning them with my core values, I've grown as an individual - and it all began with Fahrenheit 451."

Coincidentally, I just watched "Pleasantville" at my sister's house, which is supposed to have the same theme, though I find it deeply flawed.

Thing I am not buying - family rocking chair. It seats one adult and two little kids. Very silly.

Last night R. and I went to see Jenny Lewis and the Watson Twins at Stubbs BBQ. As always, that place was loud. So loud, especially the bass, that I could feel my breastbone vibrating. As I was not in need of CPR or a pacemaker at the time, I found this unhelpful. It was difficult to breathe.

I put in earplugs, which were a good idea but which felt a bit like nothing in the face of all that sound. What I really wanted was a giant foam earplug to dive into.

R. liked the vibration and stayed up front (with earplugs deeply inserted) for a good view. I cowered in the back behind the stone wall where the sound guys worked. It did occur to me to do a little project involving the use of piano wire and the phrase, "Turn down the volume on the bass if you want to live," but I refrained.

There was no crowd at all where I was, no jerks, and no smokers I feared were about to burn me. I could still see the performers, but I couldn't see their faces.

The show opened with The Blow, a woman whose singing I enjoyed, though the lyrics I caught were unexciting, and her background percussion was very loud.

Then there was Will Sheff, a man with a Harry Potter way about him (or maybe it was just the hair and glasses), a black suit with a skinny tie, and a guitar he could strum so well that it made me think that if I could strum that well, I would never feel the need to finger pick. I enjoyed his singing, too, very heartfelt, but the lyrics I caught didn't really grab me. Apparently his music is an example of emo, which I am not even cool or young enough to discuss properly. I kind of liked it though. Plus this was the least painful musician because he did not have a bass.

Then I also enjoyed Jenny Lewis and the Watson Twins, as I knew I would because R. has their CD. All three of them have exquisite voices. And they sing interesting lyrics. Unfortunately, they also have a bass player and other loud band members.

Did I mention that I am not a professional reviewer of music?

It was also a bit chilly out, but I was more comfortable in that way than I expected. I had on the long sleeves and jacket I wore to work, plus an extra hidden fleece jacket between those two layers and a soft scarf just in case. At one point I would have bought a hot chocolate if they were selling it, but they sold only water, sodas, and a rather long list of alcohols. So I held out until I got home.

Entry of the Day: $50 Paint Job on rickwrench.com. Learn how to paint your car for fifty bucks in a very nicely written entry with lots of pictures. This is exactly how a how-to should be written, with details, pictures, and examples of what can go wrong.

My quads sure ache today. So I did some gardening today, to even things out. See, now the backs of my legs will hurt, too. Or maybe not, because I had the post-exercise peanut butter and the stretching.

Today I could actually imagine how people like gardening. The weather was beautiful. I even noticed and enjoyed the birds chirping. And I assume most people don't need a saw to garden.

I still have two more plants to plant. I planted my daisies in my moon garden, also known as my rose garden. Many roses are alive, but none are blooming. The other plants are all pale so they will look good in the moonlight. The dusty miller has died, but I can transplant one from my little planter out front. The white lantana is taking over, in a good way. I had to cut down some mulberry again.

And since I was walking by, I did a clean-up of the johnson grass next to the driveway again.

Then it was time to plant some trees in the back. I found a spot for the wax myrtle. Then had to move a fallen branch. Which required some sawing. Then I planted the tree. Tiny, hard to notice, easy to mow. So I carried out my new mowing prevention program. I cleared out a bigger circle and transplanted some iris bulbs to guard the new tree. Since those bulbs bloom in the spring, you're supposed to transplant them in the fall. And it's fall now! (So far, all my iris transplants have been successful, even when I've done it at other times of the year.)

I also covered the area with mulch and left the plant container upside down near the new plant, just as a little added head-scratcher to make someone with a lawn mower remember that there might be something to watch out for. R. recommends that I tie yellow ribbons on the new plants. I fear that these will fade and disintegrate instantaneously in our powerful sun.

Okay that all took two and half hours. So then I planted the Barbados cherry in the planter and watered it. Oh, I also tried to dig out the tree trying to grow there, but the root went too deep, so I just had to cut it. Again. Just about everything I cut down today had already been cut down one or more times and keeps growing back. Don't plants need leaves to gather energy? Stinking storage-facility roots.

I remembered to wear my burr-covered sneakers and I remembered to put on gloves before touching too many itchy things. Still, I did get two minor injuries. One was a scratch that was already swelling so I cleaned it and added antibiotic ointment and a bandaid. The other was where burrs kept scratching me at the edge of my shoe where the sock had fallen down. I threw away these socks. I need to find socks that are icky enough to not risk ruining them when I garden but good enough to actually protect me.

**

Then time for a shower and brunch with R. on our way to guitar class. We learned some new riffs. And I learned that if I want to do a lot of strumming, I want a pick. I still want to use my fingernails for note picking or songs that have some note picking and some strumming, but for all strumming songs I want a pick.

Not that I've tried a pick yet. But I will sometime this week. What I really want is to not keep scraping the same part of the back of my thumb across the strings because that hurts.

**

Then I decided to check out the Mueller Family Day for some "good food and family-friendly activities [and] ... to see the Mueller redevelopment up
close and get an update on the project." (Mueller is the old airport near my neighborhood which they are turning into an exciting high-density development. Sometime during the next millennium.) Sounds like a very mediocre time, eh? But I figured it would be nice to see how the pedestrian access was going.

The location of this event was not given, but the location of the parking was: "Parking is available along Mueller Boulevard in the Mueller redevelopment." So I figured I'd take Cameron across 51st down the sidewalk there until I got to the first street, whatever that was called, and wander around until I found a lot of parked cars, and then look for a building or a tent or something.

The first street is not called Mueller Boulevard but it does intersect that street. At the very end. Meanwhile the curbs all have that fencing with the black plastic to keep construction silt from clogging up the drainage. Even where there was no construction at all. So I had to walk in the street all the way down that first street. Mueller Boulevard didn't have this, so I could walk in the grass, though perhaps not officially: there were some no trespassing signs.

Forty minutes after I left the house I came to the end of Mueller Boulevard and there were no parked cars the whole way. And it was starting to rain. No problem--I had brought my umbrella.

When I got home I saw that this event actually is scheduled for tomorrow. I had been very careful to double-check that I had remembered the right weekend, but I had not double-checked that I had gotten the right day of the weekend. Besides, it feels like Sunday since I had yesterday off.

But I did find out my answer to the pedestrian question. Although the situation currently sucks, each corner has a sidewalk carefully sloped and textured for people in wheelchairs, so one day the situation should be better.

**

I recently got a friend the book Apartment Therapy for her birthday, and then decided to use a bookstore gift certificate to get myself one as well and it came in today. It's more than a home decorating book--it's about how to fix up your house for the things you want it for.

I like one situation they described of a couple in a one-bedroom apartment with a kitchen that was way too small for them, a crazy bathroom, and a living room with huge expanses of built-in couches. They weren't comfortable working at home or cooking; basically it was terrible for them. But it had been perfect for the previous tenant who had done the renovations (apparently people renovate rental apartments in New York). She was a single artist who liked space and parties but mostly ate out. So the book is trying not to have one standard answer of what is the best way to organize your house.

There's a diagnostic test. I was surprised how well I did. Terribly, but it reminded me that we are comfortable doing all the most important things (such as sleeping, getting dressed, doing bathroom things, cooking, eating, listening to music, reading, watching movies, and staying cool in the summer). And when it's clean, I think it's mostly beautiful and comfortable. If you're familiar with the book, my first priority is the "bones," and my second priority is the "head." The "heart" is already good enough. In fact, their idea to bring flowers into the house would just make things worse, so I'm ignoring at least some of that advice.

The first exercise was to list everything that needs to be fixed and then come up with an idea of how to fix each thing. When I saw that, I thought that would be basically an infinitely long list. But actually, even making allowances for having forgotten a few things, it's actually a refreshingly finite list.

I haven't actually done anything yet. I want to read the book and see what I think. They recommend cleaning the entire floor of your house as one of the first steps. Uh, no. Not happening. Can't get to the entire floor. That's the problem. Just rub it in. I still think there may be helpful bits in the book anyway, though.

I also gave in and got Cube Chic which is a very silly book showing you how to make your cubicle at work not be so boring. Every two pages, they show you a different theme for decorating your cube in an over-the-top way. There are pictures, directions, and other helpful hints. Except of course that you should never actually do this unless perhaps you work at home. Well, maybe the inside of one of those covered bookshelves that you normally keep covered could be decorated in a crazy festive way, but you would still be disguised as a serious and professional employee most of the time.

**

Then we watched the whole first disk of the first season of "My Name Is Earl." We saw two episodes at the redneck party, and now it's out on DVD. I have to say that after watching seven episodes (six new to me), I still like that show. It happens in a strange land where karma is pretty instantaneous and where when you try to help people it always eventually works out for the best.

Today I went to a lovely birthday party at the cafe at Central Market, which is one of those places where you can order at a counter and then sit down, so people can come and go as they wish. Today I learned that their child-sized spaghetti and meatballs (a misnomer, since there was only one meatball) is too big of an order for me to eat. (In one sitting.) Crazy.

There was a band playing, Boxcar Preachers, and I think I like them, though I couldn't understand their vocals. Their music style is called "Americana," which is a term I've never heard applied to music before. It sounded like bluegrass and blues and swing. Their vocals (and washboard) reminded my of the Asylum Street Spankers--1920's blues and gospel. Very upbeat. Yes, blues can sound upbeat to me.

I couldn't quite catch a lot of the conversation, however. I did hear a story about a guy who bought a big piece of land near Enchanted Rock State Park for "half a million dollars," which sounds like a lot, but really it's just the price of a couple of average houses in town. You could imagine saving for a thing like that.

Enchanted Rock has large granite domes which formed when magma bubbles didn't quite make it to the surface of the earth, but then the surface earth eroded away, thus exposing them. This guy's property has three domes, two of which are covered in trees, but one of which is bare like the big one in the park. A road goes to one corner of the property, and that is the full extent of development. He's going to want to build a trail to the interior, build some bridges over some creeks, and a little cabin.

I got to hear someone's job hunting strategy. She's focusing traditional work hours on job hunting tasks and not worrying about it the rest of the time. She has several tasks that need to be done in a certain order. She has just finished her portfolio and will next work on her resume and then finally apply for jobs. Even though she could use some cash, she is not accepting freelance work at this time because it will just distract her from her primary goal of getting regularly paying work. It's good to know yourself well enough to be able to make these kinds of decisions properly.